Ruthless
by TheRealHinata1996
Summary: Cato watched Clove die in his arms and hunted the remaining tributes down. All the killing couldn't fix his broken heart. What would life be like home without her? To bad he didn't know it would be worse then being the Games
1. Consequences

*Just something i wrote awhile back. I felt so bad for Cato! Hope you like it, i'd love to hear what you think :)

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Ruthless

"_Clove don't leave me! I lov-" He choked on the word. He tried to continue but couldn't say it. A crystal tear fell from Cato's eye as he craddeled the fragile Clove in his arms, her life slowly slipping from her._

"_No, please." He begged, almost shaking from fear. The great Cato had never been scared. Not until now. He leaned closer, pressing her to his chest, whispering into her ear, begging her to hold on. But it was too late, he had gotten there too late. He had not saved her._

_Clove's cannon went off. _

The memory played over and over in his head as his trainer stood angrily in front of him. "What you say to her? You love her?" The trainer bounced in front of him. Pathetic!" The trainer swung at him, his meaty hands bruising Cato's jaw. Cato shoved the arm away from his face and swung back, the thought of Clove fresh in his mind.

Cato had fallen in love with Clove, as silly as it sounds for a career tribute. He hadn't announced it stupidly like Peeta did during the interviews. He had secretly dropped hints, nothing that would damage his Ruthless Killer look. After she had died in his arms, he turned into a true monster and hunted down all the remaining tributes, killing them all in a very special way. He had hacked Katniss to pieces, drowning Peeta in Katniss's blood, cracking Thresh's bones and ripping them out of him. He had been crowned Victor and instead of smiling and gloating like he originally planned before, he stood stone like to the audience. They didn't know how he felt for Clove and took his depression as pride and cheered even louder for him. There cheers made him sick.

After the Victory Tour he went back home and instead of relaxing, his trainer tortured him. He saw the signs of love in Cato and said they were weaknesses. There was no room for weakness and if Cato wouldn't listen to him, he would beat the sense into him.

The trainer kicked at Cato, smashing his huge foot at Cato's temple, causing him to fall to the ground. Then the trainer repeatedly kicked at Cato's gut, sometimes smashing his foot in Cato's mouth, banging against the strong teeth. The trainer only chuckled at Cato's weakness. "What are you to lazy? No, to sad. You've given up?" He spat down at him. "What did you say to her when they cameras weren't on you. You would marry her? Huh lover boy?" The trainer kicked him in the nose once more.

Crack.

The sound of the tiny bones cracking, the pain that seared through Cato. It wasn't enough to make the trainer feel bad. The trainer walked away from the bleeding pupil over to a wooden bench to pick up a towel and water bottle. He threw the towel at Cato carelessly "Mop up the blood will ya lover boy," He took a long swig of the cold water (mixed with a rich Irish scotch) before walking out of the training room.

Cato just laid there. The worst thing about his trainer, this abuse wouldn't end just because his training was done. This continued at home because his trainer was also his dad. His dad ever since he got back from his Victory Tour, took him to the training center after hours and beat him. The black and blue bruises all over his body that were usually covered with clothes. Cato never cried, sometimes fighting back but that made things worse. His father hated him and so when he fought back used that as an excuse to hurt him even harder.

One night his father had snuck into his room and tied him down, slowly dripping acid on his legs around his 'area' saying "You'll never use it. Love is for weak people. And I tried to damn hard to raise you strong. I'm not letting my years of work go to waste." Cato fought back at that moment, squealing, tugging to the bonds that tied him down. Anything to break free so he could kill this bastard, but the bonds where to strong. His struggle seemed to only fuel his dad more and he had stabbed Cato through the left hand. He smirked at the sight.

"Love has consequences" He said emotionless, leaving Cato tied up and legs burning from the acid, leaving the knife through his hand.

And it was true, Cato loved Clove. He regrets never telling her or anything of how he felt. She was the only one who made him feel- less inhuman. Before it was all about being a cold killer, but she actually made him enjoy killing. She made me feel emotions that weren't weak. She showed him the joys of killing, the pride, the pleasure of hearing them scream and most importantly, how to enjoy this kind of life. His dad had said even though he hadn't said how he felt, just the way he looked at her was bad. It was a weakness. Everything was a weakness to his dad. He got up onto his bruised knees and walked over to his locker. He expected to see Clove's picture hanging there beautifully but instead was a stained sticky note. In hand writing he knew too well, his dad had wrote "Love is dead"

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*Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins.


	2. Dead Inside

Cato slammed his locker and stormed out of the training center. Beginning to run through the heavy rain that fell to the ground in golf ball sized hail. He ignored the pain as he ran, the mud splashing on him, the rain drowning him, making his vision blurry.

He eventually stopped as he came to the gate of District 2, not breathless, not tired, just searing with pain as his heart exploded with anger. He balled his fists up and punched the tree's, scrapping the bark off the tree trunks, letting the splinters burrow into his skin. He collapsed to the ground and ignored the blood as he gripped his face, trying to scrap his eyeballs out. At that moment he promised himself he would never love again. Never. Love is a weakness. Why was he so sad when he won the Hunger Games? He was a fucking victor!

But at that moment he heard a twig snap somewhere behind him. He slowly looked up to see a shy little girl step into his view. She was drenched to, her long dark hair sticking down to her fragile chest. She was a creamy color, such smooth skin. Her thin body was clothed in an oversized sweater that she hugged to keep warmth in the cold rain, her tight leggings showing off her toned legs. She stopped a few inches in front of Cato, a little out of breath. "Are you okay?" She breathed. "I saw you running here. Not that easy chasing you," She gave a soft giggle. Everything about her besides her personality reminded him of Clove. This girl was sweet and caring, almost to a level where it sickened him. But something about her- she was vulnerable. He could take control of her, use her. That's all he needed.

The mysterious girl came to his side and took off her sweater, wrapping it around Cato's big shoulders. He just looked up at her, not feeling anything but anger. He will not love. He refuses. But she was so much like Clove. He couldn't help the temptation. He took the girls face and kissed her passionately. Everything he felt for Clove went into that kiss. He stroked her face, deepening the kiss as he gently pushed her up against a tree trunk, somewhat shielding them from the rain. The girl broke off the kiss. "Cato-," He wasn't shocked she knew his name, everybody knew him. He just stared at her, wanting to stop the talking and just be with her. Because in his mind, it wasn't this girl, it was Clove. Her small self taking control of the kiss, roaming her hands on him. He barely listened as she spoke, her soft voice almost inaudible because of the heavy rain. "Please don't use me." Her voice was almost a plead. She swallowed nervously. "I just- things are hard for you with Clove and all. And I'm here to help you. I- I love you Cato- since the Reaping." She was trembling, so shy, so scared, so innocent.

"Just please say you love me and I'll be all yours," She begged with her voice, a soft whisper as she clutched at his soaked shirt, slowly leaning into him. Cato looked down at her with burning eyes. "I will never love."

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*I hope you liked it! :D Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins


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